


hope beyond hope

by Iolite666, LillithShame



Series: Incestuous Fix-It Extravaganza [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Amnesia, Incest, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent/Child Incest, Sibling Incest, You've been warned, if that big ol ship tag didn't make it clear, tagged the two biggest ships separately but, this is basically every combination possible of the blaiddyd and fraldarius men, very much including the incestuous ones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-26 02:30:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20382220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolite666/pseuds/Iolite666, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillithShame/pseuds/LillithShame
Summary: Sir Glenn Fraldarius and King Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd died in the Tragedy of Duscur, as everyone knows. The pale-skinned, scarred warrior living a quiet life in a remote village in Duscur cannot be Glenn Fraldarius, just as the mysterious amnesiac man who appears suddenly in his life cannot be King Lambert.





	1. quiet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iolite666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolite666/gifts).

> I haven't actually played Blue Lions yet but this fic and its general ideas have been vetted by someone who has played the route twice so... I hope it's alright?  
I've tagged things in anticipation, but there won't actually be any incest content for like... A While. So if that's what you're here for, sadly you might have to wait quite a bit.  
This was originally the product of taking an 'Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies' AU to its natural extreme. It also connects directly to my other Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies(/Incest) fic, "Thicker Than Water", but you don't have to read the other to understand this one and vice versa. They just take place in the same continuity.  
Every chapter will have the necessary warnings here in the author's notes. For now, this one is completely SFW!

The log split in half with a satisfying  _ THUNK _ .

He swept the split pieces aside into the growing pile to be carried inside, and took another whole log, raising his axe up and repeating the process. Clear, replace,  _ THUNK _ . Clear, replace,  _ THUNK _ . It was satisfying, if almost mind numbing in its repetition.

Some days, that was all he wanted; mind-numbing, thoughtless busy work.

A cold breeze washed over him, raising gooseflesh on his arms and making him shiver. The sweat cooled against his bare skin; soon it would be too cold to do this shirtless, saving himself the trouble of laundry, but the more he did now the less he would have to worry about that later, when the first real snow hit and left everything under a blanket of white.

Winters were harsher here, and longer, than he had been used to, in a past life— It made sense, he was farther north than he ever had been back then, and winters were already difficult where he had once made his home.

He raised his axe to continue his work, determined to stockpile enough firewood before the first big storm that they could make it through most if not all of the winter, when the sound of the back door opening distracted him. He lowered the axe to avoid any unfortunate accidents—

The scar that left a sizeable divot in his shoulder had not been the result of an accident, but it was a good enough reminder to take care.

“Glenn! Come inside, you’ll catch your death out there!”

“Coming, nana! Just a second!”

He reached down to pick up the crate he’d been dumping the firewood into and carried it to the back door; he would toss most of it in the back hall, and take some of it to sit by the fireplace where Nana didn’t have to walk all that way just to stoke the fire.

She wasn’t his actual grandmother, of course. Anyone could tell that just by looking at them. She had dark skin and a strong, serious face under the lines of age, where Glenn was almost as pale as the snow itself and had a delicate face that had been called feminine in his homeland, and here mostly prompted jokes about how fragile he looked, as though he could be crushed without much effort, usually when the local folks expressed surprise that he could (mostly) keep up with them despite his small size and looking for all intents and purposes like a porcelain doll to them.

No, she wasn’t his real grandmother, but she had taken him in when he had nowhere else to go and nothing in the world. She was lonely, she had told him, ever since her son had gotten married and left home, moving to live with his wife’s family. Whatever her reasons, he was grateful to have a place to live.

“Come, come, have some tea… Warm yourself… I don’t know what I would do if you got sick…”

“I’m alright, Nana,” he assured her as he dropped the chopped wood by the door. “It’ll hopefully be a good while yet before you have to worry about me being outdoors like this.”

All the same, it felt good to be indoors, out of the breeze. It wasn’t cold enough yet for them to keep the hearth lit in the day, though it would be soon; all the same, the kettle and stove in the kitchen radiated warmth throughout the tiny house, which was big enough only for her, though Glenn could hardly judge; his own lodgings were even smaller, located just behind her house at the edge of the woods, and he strongly suspected it had started life as a storage shed of some sort...

“Here, I’ll pour the tea… You’ve been working hard today, sit and relax a moment…”

He almost protested, but the elderly woman was off and into the kitchen before he could say anything, so he simply sighed and shook his head. He sat down and made himself comfortable in his threadbare chair by the cold hearth and sighed. His muscles ached, but it was a pleasant ache, the kind that came with good hard work instead of overexertion.

The only part of him that  _ hurt _ was his shoulder, and Glenn sighed as he reached up to massage the tough skin there.

It had been a few years since he had woken up in this small village, in the bed of their resident doctor, barely able to move or even to stay awake for long. His injuries had been so severe that for some time there was a concern that he might lose the use of his arm entirely. The scar he bore from the…  _ Incident _ was certainly the first thing most people noticed about him, if he didn’t go to great lengths to cover it up.

After all, it left a divot of several centimeters into his flesh, where he’d been practically carved like a roast…

As his mind started to wander, Glenn shook his head. There was a reason he enjoyed mindless busy work. It meant he didn’t have to worry about his brain travelling to places where he most certainly  _ did not want _ it to go.

There was nothing good that could come of dwelling on such a bloody, distant past, after all…

“Is that scar bothering you again, Glenn?”

Nana set the things for tea on the little table between her favourite chair and his, looking at him with concerned etched in her severe face. He gave her his best reassuring smile.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her while rubbing the tough scar tissue. “It always aches a little when I’ve been chopping wood. I’m used to it.”

She tutted her concern, clearly not believing him but too charmed by him (or so he liked to think) to dig any further, which he was glad for because he wasn’t sure he could handle anyone poking at that wound, physical or metaphorical…

They sat and drank their tea in companionable silence, Glenn taking great pleasure in the way it warmed him from the inside (maybe the chill had gotten to him more than he thought…) while she shared the latest village gossip with him. It was comforting, familiar…

Glenn wished it could last forever, even when he was painfully aware that it couldn’t.

“You know, it’s such a comfort having you here,” his Nana said, completely out of the blue— Or maybe Glenn was so lost in his own thoughts that he had missed what she ahd said that lead up to it. “I hope you don’t feel lonely, with just this old woman for company.”

“Nonsense, Nana,” Glenn said brightly to disguise the way he cringed inside when she said that, knowing what was coming next.

“I just worry about you. You don’t seem to spend much time with people your own age. I wonder if you wouldn’t be happier with them…”

“It’s fine, Nana. I’m happy to spend time with you, and focus on getting stronger.” He smiled at her, and hoped he deflected the conversation completely. Some days, that was enough; some days, she would try to push a little harder. He didn’t like those days, because he didn’t like hurting her feelings, but sometimes he had no choice but to get a little less than polite when she would refuse to drop the subject…

He knew she meant well, but what she was suggesting? Well, it was the farthest thing from his mind.

She opened her mouth to say something else, and a sinking feeling told Glenn that this was going to be one of the difficult days, but a sudden pounding at the front door that made both of them jump cut her promptly off. Glenn reached for the shirt he’d left on the back of his chair when he went to go chop wood and pulled it on as she got out of her seat and tottered over to the door.

“Nana! They need your magic! There’s a man who hurt his head!” one of the village children, no doubt sent to run and fetch her because they could run the fasted, yelled at an ear-splitting volume.

“Oh dear… Glenn, grab my staff, would you?”

Glenn was already out of his chair before she even finished asking, grabbing the rough-hewn wooden staff from the corner of the room where Nana left it. Nana wasn’t the town doctor, but she  _ was _ the most talented healer in the village, and people came to her for all sorts of injuries and ailments that traditional medicines would take much longer to heal.

She didn’t have to ask him to offer his arm to help her down the steps and follow the child into town. He just did so.

The village was small, so small that Glenn knew everyone by name, and it seemed like every single one of them had turned out for what was the most exciting— and distressing— thing that had happened in…

Well, probably in the years since his own arrival, which he didn’t remember but was told had been something much like this. Having dragged himself bloody and barely clinging to life in search of help and collapsing on the edge of a farmer’s field…

Concerned parents were trying to keep their rambunctious and curious children out of the way, while the less preoccupied adults gathered loosely around, maintaining a circle but keeping their distance. Over the murmuring din of voices and the occasional loud interjection from a child who had not yet fully grasped the concept of ‘volume control’, Glenn could hear the village doctor, clear as day, her stern voice calmly picking random people at hand to fetch her this or that, water, a blanket, something from her office…

Nana toddled up to the loose circle of people and they parted easily for the two of them, Glenn following behind carrying her staff. When the doctor caught sight of them, she immediately ushered them over and people moved out of the way even faster.

“We haven’t wanted to move him in case it makes his condition worse,” she said to Nana, skipping any basic explanation of the situation to get straight to the point. “I can’t see any signs of an external injury, but it would make me feel more secure if you could use your magic, just to be certain he’s stable enough to be moved…”

Glenn wordlessly handed the staff to the elderly healer, who was more than happy to dive straight into the work.

He knew it was best for him to stay out of the way, as everyone else was doing; even the doctor had moved back to give Nana space to work, though she didn’t move far in case she was needed, if the collapsed man’s condition took a turn for the worse. But as he was moving to get out of the way he caught sight of a flash of skin as pale as his own beneath the dark travelling cloak the man was wearing— or he assumed it was a man, since that was what everyone had been saying, though from his less than ideal vantage point he really could only see a pile of ragged clothing.

Not a native of Duscur, then. Hardly an impossibility, but people from the South rarely travelled into the Duscur region if they didn’t need to, and never to places as small and inconsequential as their village. A merchant, desperate to unload his wares before the long and difficult winter came and made his travels all but impossible, perhaps? Lost on the difficult roads that could grow confusing to anyone not familiar with them…?

Then Nana slid the man’s hood from his head just as Glenn took a step back in a careful circle to get a better look at the man, and he gasped. Soft, blond hair framing a long, sturdy face, and though he was somewhat gaunt about the cheeks and his beard had grown out wildly as though he hadn’t had a proper shave in weeks, it was without a doubt...

“Lambert…?”


	2. awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Glenn knew the unconscious man could not be the King Lambert he saw struck down, he still felt an overwhelming urge to stay by his side...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter made to establish some stuff! We should be getting into some steamy stuff next chapter, if that's what you're here for...  
This one, sadly, is completely SFW.

The scarred, pale man by the name of Glenn living a simple and quiet life in a village called Salmara was not Sir Glenn Fraldarius of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. He couldn’t be, because Sir Glenn Fraldarius was dead.

Just as King Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd was dead, and absolutely could not be the unconscious man lying before him, slumbering so peacefully that if not for the sheen of cold sweat on his brow Glenn would have thought he was simply, comfortably, asleep.

In the few hours since Nana had been called to tend to the fallen man and he had followed, the doctor had declared him stable enough to be moved, and so he had been— to the much more comfortable infirmary bed in the doctor’s house.

Glenn had stayed with him the entire time.

A few times the doctor had come in to check on his condition, ensure his breathing and heartrate were good, and though he hadn’t woken up yet she could find no sign that he was injured or ill.

_ “If I had to say why he collapsed, I would say pure exhaustion, though I would not be able to say for sure without a more thorough examination.” _ Unless his condition worsened, she told him she didn’t feel comfortable conducting one until he woke up; having no idea who this man was, what his medical history was like, if he had any sort of allergies…

Glenn could have told her all of that, if the man on the bed truly was King Lambert.

But King Lambert was dead.

Glenn stood over the man and stared at his slumbering face. He looked so much like Lambert— more gaunt in the cheeks, skin even paler than normal from exhaustion or exertion or illness, hair mussed and matted, but the spun gold colour of it… A scraggly, overgrown beard did little to disguise a strong but sharp jawline that would seem almost as delicate next to the men of Duscur as Glenn’s own, but was every bit as regal as he remembered it…

Yes, Sir Glenn Fraldarius died on the battlefield that day, buried in the mud and bodies of fallen comrades, his life sacrificed so that the young prince might live.

But that didn’t mean his memories had died with him. Not entirely. And if the stranger were to open his eyes and they were a beautiful shade of Forget-Me-Not blue, well…

Glenn wasn’t sure he would be able to deny it any longer.

A soft knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts, and made him realize that it was probably…  _ Suspect _ of him to be standing over a sleeping stranger and staring at his face like that. Thankfully it was only Nana.

“I’m going home now, dear,” she said softly, like a loud voice would be enough to take the man from his unconscious state.

“I’ll help you—”

“No, no. I’m no fragile flower that can’t get herself from place to place. Stay. Amira said that you could, if you’d like.”

Glenn frowned, looking back down at the unconscious man’s face. No one had asked him if he knew him. He was certain no one had  _ needed _ to; his reaction on seeing him lying there in the street, and the fact that he had not left his side since, told them all they needed to know. Anything else was his perogative to share.

He had not been one for ‘sharing’ much even in the almost five years since he had come to the village. They didn’t begrudge him for it, or pry, for which he was grateful. And in turn he had never lied to anyone in Salmara, not even about trivial matters. It seemed only fair.

Which was why he did not lie and tell Nana that he would be fine leaving this man to the doctor’s expert care, or that he did not know him.

“She told me to tell you to fetch her if his condition changes,” Nana said, and Glenn nodded, mute, hearing her but still too absorbed staring at the sleeping face of a man he’d believed to be dead for many long years, though he still felt uncertain…

But it would have been hypocritical of him to call it impossible.

By the time he regained his senses, Nana had already taken her leave. He would have to apologize to her in the morning, or… Or whenever he saw her next, he supposed, as he didn’t think he would be going anywhere until he got the answers he was looking for.

So he pulled a chair up next to the patient’s bed, made himself comfortable, and prepared for a long night of wondering, and worrying, and asking himself questions for which he had no answers.

When he awoke, there were two things he knew for certain:

Firstly, that his name was Lambert.

Secondly, that he was looking for someone.

A third thing that he didn’t _ know _ , but which he realized quickly, was that he was in a tremendous amount of pain.

The list of things he did  _ not _ know was much longer— though he supposed that was technically true of anyone at any time.

The first thing he didn’t know was where he was. When he opened his eyes, roused from a deep sleep into a half-slumber that left him clutching desperately at a half-remembered dream and leaving him with nothing but an empty, nagging feeling of  _ longing _ , he found himself in a quite comfortable bed with a gauzy white curtain around it, blocking out the most offensive of the sunlight in the room. The bare wooden rafters high above his head gave the place a cozy, welcoming feeling.

He didn’t recognize the bed. He didn’t recognize what little he could see of the room.

The second thing he didn’t know was why he was in so much pain. He had hardly opened his eyes when a dull ache behind them forced him to shut them again, and a wave of nausea rolled over him from the suddenness of it…

He had absolutely no concept of how long he might have been lying there for, before the pain subsided enough that he found himself able to venture sitting up. The ache worsened, momentarily, before subsiding enough that he could ignore it and turn his body to bring his legs over the side of the bed.

Lambert had just managed to open the curtain, wanting to see more of the room he was in, when a door on its far side opened.

“Ah. You’re awake.”

The woman was tall and sturdy, with dark skin and pale hair that was pulled back into a severe bun; markers of someone from Duscur, though it took him a moment to realize why he knew that, as his memories struggled to return.

He had precious few of them, but what ones he did have slowly started to come back to him as he pushedback the fog of unconsciousness…

“Are you feeling well? There’s no need to push yourself to get up so quickly.”

The woman’s demeanour, as well as a better look at the room he found himself in— more of an infirmary than a bedroom— told him she was some sort of doctor.

“I feel alright,” he told her, and was surprised that he meant it. “Sore, and a little sick, but I feel as though I an get up and move around.”

“You should be careful,” she told him as she stepped foward to stand next to his sickbed. “You were found collapsed in the street, and you were unconscious for several days. On top of that, you’re showing signs of malnutrition and exhaustion. You really ought to take things slowly.”

“Days…? Collapsed in the street…? I… Perhaps you’re right…”

He didn’t protest when the doctor instructed him to lie back down while she examined him. She asked him questions, seemed pleased at the answers to even banal ones such as ‘what is your name’ and ‘do you know where you are’, paid particularly close attention to his eyes…

“Has something like this ever happened to you before?” she asked as she gave him clearance to sit up, if he found it more comfortable, which he did.

“I… Believe so,” he answered, somewhat uncertain, giving his head a shake. “I’m sorry. My memory is a bit foggy. Actually… I can’t remember much of anything, I’m afraid.”

“Amnesia…?”

“Yes, I…” He frowned, as a thought struggled to break through. “I think so. I was… For a while, I was living with a kind family who took me in when they found me collapsed, just as you did. They told me I had injured my head and was near death when they found me. Recently I left them in search of… Something.” He chuckled. “Perhaps it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t say exactly what I was searching for…”

The doctor listened politely, did not interrupt, and when he finished he could only shake his head.

“I’m very grateful for your help, but I’m afraid I have no way of repaying you. I own nothing but the clothes on my back…”

“Payment is not necessary,” she said firmly. “I wouldn’t be much of a doctor if I would leave someone to suffer like that simply for lack of payment.”

“Then your kindness is most appreciated.”

“I would ask one thing of you, though,” the doctor said.

“Anything.”

“Does the name ‘Glenn’ sound familiar to you?”

Lambert’s head ached  _ fiercely _ .

“Glenn…?” The name sounded heavy on his tongue, not with unfamiliarity, but…

But with something pulling at the back of his mind, like someone trying to remove a stubborn cork from a bottle of wine with their bare hands…

“I… I’m not sure,” he answered as honestly as he could. “I’m sorry, but my… Well, like I said, my memory isn’t really…”

He struggled to find the words while the name ‘Glenn’ still picked away at the back of his mind. The name did sound  _ so  _ familiar, but… He couldn’t actually say why that was, and that frustrated him.

He was used to the feeling, though. In fact, he’d spent the last several years feeling exactly the same way. Memories had started to return to him, slowly, but never anything… Consequential. A sound, or a smell, or  _ something _ would trigger in him a feeling of comfort and joy, or a sense of deep longing, but… No names, no faces, nothing that could tell him who he was or where he had come from before ending up with the farmers that had taken him in and nursed him through the worst of his illness.

The doctor put her hand up in a ‘peace’ gesture.

“Don’t strain yourself,” she said, softly but with authority. “I only ask because a young man named Glenn living in this village seemed to recognize you. He’s remained at your bedside almost constantly these past few days. He would be here now, but I sent him out to run some errands for me… It might benefit you to chat with him when he returns. Perhaps he can tell you something about your past. He seemed very concerned about you, as well…”

“Thank you…” Lambert couldn’t think of what else to say.

Suddenly, the only thing that wanted to come to mind was  _ Glenn _ …

“Here you go.”

Glenn grunted as he deposited the heavy sack of supplies as gently as possible by Amira’s door. His shoulder gave a twinge even though he was careful to keep the bulk of the weight on his good arm.

What he wouldn’t give to have two proper, working arms again… Goddess, it had been  _ years _ ; was he ever going to be free of the reminder? Every time the doctor reminded him that healing took time, it only vexed him more…

“Thank you, Glenn.” If she caught the irritation that flashed in his eyes, she didn’t say anything. But then, she was a stoic person. Before he had lived there himself, he might have called it a Duscur trait. Now, while he would still say they were a people who valued a certain level of emotional composure, he knew just as many fools who would run their mouth off at a moment’s notice here as he had anywhere else…

“Oh. While you were out, our patient woke up.”

Glenn jumped like he’d just been stabbed.

“Is… Is he alright?” He knew he probably looked hilarious. His eyes were wide, and he felt all of the colour draining out of his face, almost like he was going to be sick.

He asked that first because he knew it was what he was  _ supposed _ to ask, when the man had been  _ unconscious _ for three whole days; but there were so many other questions he wanted to ask instead…

“He seems to be recovering well,” she replied without batting an eye, although the way she raised an eyebrow at him implied that that was out of politeness rather than obliviousness. “Though I won’t know for sure until he’s been awake for longer. But his vitals are strong and he’s quite responsive. We talked for some time until he got tired and I left him to rest.”

Glenn  _ itched _ to ask what they had talked about, but knew the doctor wouldn’t tell him; a doctor couldn’t betray a patient’s trust like that, after all. But he had to  _ know _ …

“Did… Did he tell you his name?” he asked, and nearly kicked himself both for the stupid question and how stupid he sounded asking it, the weird mix of terror and hope making his throat feel thick, like it was about to close up…

“Yes,” she replied. “He said his name is Lambert.”

And that was how Glenn found himself nervously standing in front of the infirmary door, vibrating with anticipation.

Literally, to a degree. The tray he was holding rattled ominously. The doctor hadn’t even  _ asked _ him if he was going to see the patient (whose name he still couldn’t bring himself to say, or even  _ think _ ). She had simply told him that if he was, he should bring him something to eat, and so Glenn was standing in front of the infirmary with a cup of tea and a simple meal of oatmeal and preserves, hearty but not too aggravating…

He lifted his hand to knock, hesitated, dropped it again. Kept his good hand holding the tray, resented the fact that he had a ‘good hand’ once again, felt sick to his stomach. Repeat a second time.

Finally, on the third go, he worked up the courage to actually  _ knock _ — and nearly jumped out of his skin when the door opened before he had the chance.

“Oh,” said the surprised man whose face Glenn was finding harder and harder to say he couldn’t recognize, even under the ravages of time and illness, especially now that he could see the brilliant and unmistakeable blue of his eyes. “I’m sorry. Hello.”

They were the simplest four words anyone could have said to him (and one of them was more of a sound than a word, really) and yet part of Glenn almost burst into tears.

If the face and the name hadn’t been enough… The voice would have been.

“Lambert,” he breathed, resisting the urge to cry, his years of etiquette training and other assorted nonsense actually coming in handy for once in his life. “You’re—”

There were so many things he could say.  _ Alive _ , was the obvious one.  _ Here, standing in front of me _ was another.

He was so overwhelmed by the myriad of feelings and possibilities that it took him a few good seconds to realize that Lambert was looking at him sadly, without a hint of recognition.

“Ah,” he said. “You must be Glenn. I was hoping I would get a chance to talk to you… Come in?”

If his heart had leapt when he had finally been able to admit that yes, the man standing in front of him  _ was _ the supposedly dead king of Faerghus, then it sank completely when he heard that.

Still, it would hardly do to stand out in the hallway— so he accepted Lambert’s invitation and carried his meal into the infirmary, which Lambert invited him into like it was his own personal room.

There was a desk and a chair at one side of the room, where Amira would do any necessary paperwork. Glenn set the tray on the desk and brought the chair he’d spent the last three days or so sitting in over to join him, as Lambert sat down to eat.

“The doctor says you recognized me,” he said, plain and straightforward. Glenn had to admire that, if only because anything else at the moment would have probably been too much at the moment. “But I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, although every time I hear your name it feels… So familiar. But I’ve… Lost my memory, you see.”

Lamber launched into a brief explanation, telling him about being found on the edge of a family’s farm and on death’s door, how they spent several years nursing him back to health, but how whatever had caused his injury had also left him entirely without his memory.

“It took me months to even remember my own name,” he said, and sighed. “And I’ve remembered precious little other than that…”

While he spoke, Glenn didn’t interrupt. He wasn’t even looking at him, really, although he heard and absorbed every single word. He was just too deep in thought— and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he felt like he might cry if he looked at Lambert and saw no recognition in his eyes again.

The King he had served— well, since  _ birth _ , his father’s closest friend, and who he would have given his life for in a second… Didn’t even recognize him.

And perhaps… Perhaps it was what he deserved.

“You really don’t remember…  _ Anything _ ?” He knew he sounded incredulous, suspicious even. It was probably unfair of him. But if he couldn’t allow himself to be sad, then mad, or at least annoyed, had always been the next best thing. And while he was aware of the concept of amnesia, it still struck him as odd…

“Nothing at all, no,” Lambert replied with genuine sadness. “Only my name, and…”

He paused, brow furrowing, and looked off to the side in thought. Glenn knew it probably wasn’t polite of him to pry, but fuck if he wasn’t going to do it anyway. He had every right to be suspicious, after all… Sure, he wasn’t claiming to be the king of Faerghus  _ right now _ , but if he were to ‘suddenly’ remember that but still conveniently forget everything else? Well… Even Glenn might start to doubt his own eyes and ears at that point…

“Tell me. Maybe I can help,” he prompted.

“The only other thing I can remember… Is that I’m looking for someone.” Lambert sighed again, shook his head. “This is probably going to sound ridiculous, but I can’t remember who it is I’m looking for. No name, no face, not even their relation to me. But I know I  _ must _ find them. Even when I knew it was dangerous for me to leave alone, I set off in hopes of finding them, or at least some clue as to where or  _ who _ they might be…”

“Which is how you ended up here, exhausted and half dead,” Glenn said, and at least this time his annoyance felt justified. Though he supposed he might have done the same, years ago, before…

He sucked a breath in through his teeth and banished the thought.

Instead, he chose to focus on the topic actually at hand, and said, idly, “If you’re looking for someone important to you, it must be Dimitri…”

“Dimitri?” Lambert repeated.

“Yes, Dimitri. He’s your—” 

Glenn was looking away, still trying to banish his wayward thoughts, and so didn’t notice the pained expression on Lambert’s face at first. Not until he made a disgruntled sort of noise.

“Are you alright?” Glenn asked reflexively, even though he could tell just by looking at his face that he was very much  _ not _ alright. “Do you need me to get the doctor?”

“Dimitri…” Lambert repeated again, his voice heavy, eyes closed and scrunched up as though in tremendous pain…

If it hadn’t been for Glenn’s years of training, he never would have sprung from his chair and caught Lambert before he toppled over onto the floor.

“Amira! Come quick! Something’s wrong, he’s—”

And the only thing that Glenn could think was  _ Something’s terribly, horribly wrong _ .

“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?”

Glenn knew that normally Amira would never share anything with someone else about a patient without their consent. But frankly, at that moment, he didn’t care. One way or another, he was going to get answers from  _ someone _ .

Apparently Amira wasn’t in the mood to fight him. Or else simply saw no point, because what she said was, “I have absolutely no idea.”

“You must have a  _ theory _ , or a  _ hunch _ , or  _ something _ .”

They were standing in the hallway just outside of the infirmary; inside, Lambert had been put gently back to bed, where he was lying— either asleep or unconscious, Glenn didn’t know and wasn’t sure he cared.

“I’m afraid not,” the doctor replied. “Physically, nothing seems to be wrong with him aside from the exhaustion and malnutrition from his journey. I can’t find any evidence of the head injury he mentioned, and his vital signs are perfectly steady. Some rest and proper nutrition  _ should _ be all he needs to make a full recovery, but…”

Glenn huffed in annoyance. It was still the easiest emotion, the one he could most trust at the moment. “But.”

“I’ve truly never seen anything like this, or even heard about it outside of the realm of fiction,” the doctor continued, heedless of his irritation. “If I were  _ forced _ to come up with an explanation, I would say that it could possibly be the work of magic… Or it could simply be the result of a mental or emotional injury, rather than a physical one.”

“Mental or emotional…?”

“Yes. Our bodies and minds often work in tandem to shield us from memories and experiences that may bring us harm. If something traumatized him so completely that he can’t even bear to think about it, perhaps…” She sighed and shook her head. “Of course, that is all just speculation. Magical or mundane, whatever is affecting him is far beyond my skill to treat. I’m… Sorry.”

Glenn… Looked away. Took a deep breath. Clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides in a rhythm, digging his nails into the soft skin of his palms to center himself.

He wanted to dwell in the comfort of anger… but it was unfair. Doctor Amira was a good woman who he knew would do anything she could to help a patient; she’d been the one to practically sew his arm back on and work tirelessly to make sure he didn’t lose the use of it completely. He knew it probably pained her to say she couldn’t od something for a patient— could see it, in fact, in the way her face scrunched up when she apologized.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say, particularly now that the anger was dissipating and leaving him with just a sort of… Vague sense of aimlessness, with other less pleasant emotions threatening to creep up on him. “And… If this really is because of magic, or trauma, or whatever, there’s no saying his memories  _ won’t _ come back, right?”

“I certainly couldn’t say for certain,” she said, almost cautiously. “But because I can’t say yes, that also means I can’t say no. The only thing I  _ can _ say is that judging by what happened today, it would be wise not to push him into remembering. It may do more harm than good.”

Glenn felt a sharp stab of guilt that he tried to push quickly aside. After all, he couldn’t have known. But even more than that, the idea of having King Lambert around, not knowing who he was or where he had come from, and not being able to tell him  _ anything _ ?

Maybe the Goddess had finally seen fit to punish him…

Or maybe… Maybe it was his chance for redemption.

“Other than the memory loss, he should be alright, right?” he asked.

“For the most part. I would still recommend rest and a slow building up to a heartier diet, not to mention regular checkups, but yes.”

“Then… It doesn’t make sense for him to stay here in the infirmary, does it?”

The way the doctor looked at him, Glenn wondered if he had said something wrong by mistake, or if maybe he’d just been a touch too eager? And so he quickly followed up with, “I mean… I know your patients are always welcome to stay as long as they need to, but it might benefit him and you if he comes to stay with me. It’ll free up your infirmary bed, and who knows; maybe I can help him regain his memory without sending him into a coma.”

He knew he was babbling, but…

“I suppose if Lambert is alright with the idea… Then yes, it would be quite convenient for me,” the doctor said, and he felt a bit of tension go out of his shoulders. At least she didn’t think he was some kind of weirdo… “Although I would need your word that if anything were to happen, you would either bring him to me or send for me right away.”

“Of course, doctor.” His eyes wandered, almost involuntarily, to the door of the infirmary. Just behind it he knew Lambert, King of Faerghus, a man he had seen fall on the battlefield literal years ago and had reasonably assumed dead the entire time, was quite alive and… Hm, ‘well’ might have been pushing it, all things considered, but ‘not dead’ was already a good start.

His earlier skepticism had vanished. Maybe it was still  _ somewhere _ in the back of his mind, but there was something stronger fighting it for dominance. Lingering dedication, perhaps? The last stirrings of his old life come to haunt him? The hope, however feeble, that this might be enough for the Goddess to forgive him? Whatever it was, he felt an overwhelming urge to protect the man inside that room from whatever might seek to do him harm, even his own mind…

Or his name wasn’t Sir Glenn Fraldarius.


End file.
